


Georgia Peaches

by Headfulloffantasies



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Baking, Birthdays, emails gone wrong, peach pie, surprise parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Headfulloffantasies/pseuds/Headfulloffantasies
Summary: Bones sends a peach pie recipe to everyone in Starfleet. Jim knows how to take a hint, so he sets out with Uhura and Spock's help to make the best pie on the Enterprise.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29





	Georgia Peaches

Georgia Peaches

Monday

Jim stared at his PADD. He blinked, rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was still there. The message tagged with a red High Security Alert flag from the desk of Doctor Leonard McCoy, CMO, held not the vital information for curing the epidemic on the planet the Enterprise currently orbited. No, the message instead contained a single page recipe for homemade Georgia peach pie. Jim glanced at the time stamp. Why, by all the stars, would Bones send him a pie recipe at three in the morning? Jim’s eye caught on the sender list.

“He sent this to the entire Fleet?”

At an appropriate hour Jim took his little pie mystery with him to the bridge. In the corridors Jim walked briskly passed crew members clustered together muttering over their PADDs. Questioning eyes looked up at Jim, silently begging for answers Jim did not have. 

The turbolift opened onto the bridge. 

Spock immediately cornered Jim. “Captain, may I have a word?”

“Sure, Spock,” Jim pushed past his First Officer to the captain’s chair.

“It is about Doctor McCoy,” Spock said quietly. 

Jim groaned. “I take it back. We’re not speaking of this.”

Jim could hear Spock’s eyebrow lifting. “Is it perhaps a human tradition to befuddle one’s co-workers-?”

“No,” Jim interrupted. “I don’t know why he did it.”

“I think I might,” Uhura appeared at Jim’s elbow with all the stealth of a ninja. Jim almost jumped out of his chair. 

“You have a theory, Lieutenant?” Spock inquired. 

“Let’s take this to my ready room,” Jim said. He could see the Ensign covering Sulu’s shift straining to listen in to their conversation. Jim led the way to his ready room. The doors slid shut behind Uhura and Spock.

“What do you know, Uhura?” Jim asked. He threw himself in a seat at the table. Uhura sat opposite, while Spock selected a chair to her right.

Uhura leaned across the table. “We’re all racking our brains trying to figure out what a pie recipe has to do with Starfleet, right?”

Spock nodded.

“Well,” Uhura’s eyes sparkled. “What if it’s an overdramatic hint?”

“A hint?” Jim raised an eyebrow. He lowered it in disgust when he realised he was copying Spock’s expression of interest. “A hint of what?”

Uhura whipped out her PADD. She slid it across the table to Jim. The screen was open to Bones’ personal data.

“It’s his birthday in one week,” Uhura informed Jim.

“I know,” Jim sighed. “I’m trying to convince Bones to actually take the day off this year.”

“All due respect, captain,” Uhura grinned like a cat. “You’re an idiot. He doesn’t want a day off. He wants a genuine Georgia peach pie.”

Jim’s brain took a full minute to jump to the conclusion. “Crap. We have one week to learn to make a pie.”

Tuesday

The Enterprise was designed for humans to live in space for multiple years at a time without going bug eyed or space crazy. That meant that although the ship could replicate any form of food scanned into its system, modest kitchens existed on every floor for crew use. Jim appropriated the one on his floor for pie making. He’d managed to convince Uhura and Spock to help. Uhura was easy to persuade. She declared she would help if Jim allowed her to take pictures. Spock needed convincing. Eventually, Jim made it an order.

Spock reported for pie duty at o’dark thirty in Jim’s new kitchen. The counters overflowed with replicated sugar, bags of almond flour, and powdered milk. Uhura and Jim were locked in an argument so intense Jim almost didn’t notice Spock’s entrance.

“Spock,” Jim yanked Spock over to the sink. “Tell Uhura that powdered eggs will be just as good as real ones.”

“Spock,” Uhura waved her PADD with the recipe over her head. “Tell the Captain that this recipe is ancient, and that we have no way of knowing how to convert the measurements for powdered eggs versus real ones.”

Spock took the PADD with grace. He scrutinized it, tapped the screen a few times and handed it back to Uhura. “Here is the proper conversion of water and powder to approximate a real egg.”

“Yes!” Jim punched the air.

“However,” Spock turned to Jim. “The taste of the pie will not equate a fresh one baked on Earth, no matter how precise your conversions.”

“Don’t be a downer,” Jim scoffed. “We’ve got all week to fix the flavour. Now wear this,” Jim tossed Spock an apron with “Kiss My Grits” printed on it.

Several minutes later, Spock said, “I appear to have made a mistake.” Jim turned around. Spock was white as a ghost, flour coating his entire face, pointed ears, and hair. 

Jim barked a laugh. “How did you manage that?”

A faint green peeked through the white on Spock’s cheeks. “I suppose I misjudged the force needed to open the bag of flour.”

Hours later, Jim carefully removed the pie from the oven. Uhura inhaled deeply as the sugary scent enveloped them. Jim cut them each a slice with laser precision. 

Spock nibbled a bite warily. Uhura swallowed hers whole, the slice vanishing before Jim even had his first forkful. He crunched through the dry crust. Peach and caramelized sugar melted on Jim’s tongue. 

“This pie sucks,” Uhuar announced. She dug her fork into the remaining pie in the pan. 

“Why would you continue to consume a pie which, as you say, sucks?” Spock inquired.

“Because pie,” Uhura said around a mouthful.

Jim hummed thoughtfully. “The crust is overbaked. It didn’t get flaky enough. Maybe we should try more eggs next time.”

“What we need is real eggs,” Uhura insisted. 

“Where are we going to get real eggs?” Jim grumbled. “We’re in space!”

Uhura gave him a sly side eye. Jim kind of wanted to hide behind Spock. “You’re the Captain,” Uhura reminded Jim. “You figure it out.”

Wednesday

They reconvened the next day. Uhura refused to peel peaches today. Jim offered to do it. He read the recipe three times in a row to make sure he understood the instructions right. It was right there in black and white. Jim shrugged and stuck his hands into the bowl of peeled and diced peaches. They squished between his fingers. It was cold and slippery and kind of nice, actually.

Uhura shrieked. “What are you doing?”

Jim jumped three feet in the air like a startled cat. “It says massage the peaches,” he defended himself. 

“Before you peel them,” Uhura groaned. “It’s just going to be mush now.”

They ate the finished pie in sizzling silence. 

“I don’t think it tastes so bad-,” Jim tried. 

“Shut up,” Uhura seethed. “Nobody likes mushy pie fillings.”

“Well the crust is still off,” Jim said. 

“So find us some eggs, captain,” Uhura dumped her plate and stalked out of the kitchen.

Thursday

Jim almost thought Uhura wouldn’t come back the next day. But she arrived right on time, dragging Spock behind her. To compromise for yesterday, they let Spock take care of the pie filling. 

The crust looked marginally better when Jim removed the pie from the oven. They’d adjusted the water to powder ratio of the eggs. Jim crossed his fingers that it had made a difference.

Jim dug a fork into his golden pie. He closed his eyes and stuck a bite in his mouth. Immediately, his eyes flew open. Jim gagged, doing his best not to spit pie all over his crewmates. Uhura, who had taken a much larger bite, ran to the sink and spat. Jim quietly lifted his napkin and deposited the nasty chunk of pie in its folds.

“What the hell?” Jim asked. 

Uhura turned on the tap and stuck her mouth under the running water. 

Spock was frozen with his first forkful of pie paused halfway to his mouth. “Is it unappealing?” He asked. 

“Salt,” Uhura gasped. 

Spock’s eyebrows both raised. “It is too salty?”

“Yeah,” Jim made a face, trying to wipe the taste from his tongue. “Way too salty. What did we do wrong?”

Spock moved across the kitchen. He picked up two identical containers of white powder from the shelf. Even from behind, Jim could see the tips of Spock’s ears turn green. 

He turned around, face completely composed. “I believe this error was mine. I appear to have mistaken the salt for sugar. I apologise.”

Uhura moaned into the sink. “Just one good pie,” she groaned. “Just one.”

Saturday

They were unable to meet the next day due to rotation schedules and a senior officer’s meeting on the planet below. When they finally all trooped back into the kitchen Uhura was despondent. 

“We only have one more chance before McCoy’s birthday,” she echoed Jim’s internal panic. “What if we get it wrong?”

Spock spoke up. “I believe the Doctor will appreciate the gesture regardless of the quality of the pie itself. Is there not an Earth saying: “It’s the thought that counts”?”

“Yes, Spock,” Jim sighed. “But it’s usually an ironic or sad saying. I just wish we could get the powdered eggs right.”

Sunday

The next day, the kitchen fell into tense silence. No one spoke as they measured, whisked, poured, and sat around the oven. Jim chewed his fingernails as he watched the timer count down. Uhura pulled a lovely golden pie from the oven. For the first time, the pie came out just right. Or as close as they could get without actually being in a farmhouse in Georgia.

“Alright,” Jim nodded, his nerves wound to breaking. “Now we know exactly how to make a pie. We just have to do exactly the same thing tomorrow.”

Uhura sighed. The sound came from the bottom of her toes. Jim felt the same dispondance in the pit of his stomach. Tomorrow they would find out if a week’s worth of work would make Bones happy.

Monday

Jim couldn’t focus on his captain duties. He chewed his nails and tapped his toe. The viewscreen looked down on the majestic green and blue of the planet. It looked just like Earth, Jim thought. Like Earth with different continents. The people down there did the same things people on Earth did. They ate and talked and slept and fought and loved and died and they worked hard and they grew their own food and farmed-,

Jim let out a string of curses. “We’re orbiting a planet!”

“Yes, captain,” Spock said easily.

Jim flapped his hands. Words failed him. He dashed off the bridge shouting, “Eggs!” 

The ambassador had been confused and a little amused, Jim thought, when the captain of the Enterprise, the pride of Starfleet, beamed down to him flustered and flushed, asking to borrow eggs like a elderly neighbor. But the ambassador obliged. Jim raced back to his ship, eggs in his arms, and booked it for the kitchen. Uhura and Spock were already there, mixing the peach filling.

“Eggs!” Jim shouted triumphant, holding the basket over his head. 

“Give me those,” Uhura screeched. She snatched the eggs and immediately began whisking. 

The pie finished baking just in time for Bones’ not-so-surprise party. Bones walked into the dark engineering bay yelling, “Jim? What’s so important we can’t talk over a bottle?”

The lights came up on half the crew stuffed into the room, holding up their glasses and shouting “Happy Birthday!”

Bones clapped a hand over his chest. “Y’all trying to give me a heart attack?”

Jim slid over to Bones a while later with Uhura and Spock in tow. “We made you something.”

“If it’s a macaroni necklace, Johanna already gave me one,” Bones said.

Spock pulled the pie from behind his back. Bones stared. He blinked very slowly and looked up at Jim. 

“You made me pie?”

Jim nodded. “It’s your mom’s recipe.”

“How by all the stars did you get my mom’s recipe?” Bones asked. He graciously accepted the plate overflowing with pastry from Uhura. He took a bite. Bones’ eyes slid shut. “Dear Lord, that is good.”

Jim and Uhura were extremely subtle about their victorious high five. As in not at all. 

Jim laughed. “Bones, you sent everyone the recipe.”

“I- what?” Bones spluttered. 

“Doctor, you sent a priority message containing your mother’s peach pie recipe,” Spock informed Bones.

“No, I didn’t,” Bones insisted. “At least, not to you. I sent that to Carol. She wanted it for her kids.”

Uhura froze. Spock frowned. Hysterical laughter bubbled up Jim’s throat.

“Bones, you didn’t just send that to Carol,” Jim snickered.

“Who’d I send it to?”

“You sent your peach pie recipe to all of Starfleet.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos are great, but comments fuel more fics :)  
> Thank you to the lovely AnonCoward who asked for a peach pie recipe. To my shame, I have never made peach pie. However, I have the recipe for the best saskatoon pie ever. Follow the link for the recipe. https://headfulloffantasies.tumblr.com/post/621680305413275648/georgia-peaches


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